I Am Myself

There are voices, offstage voices
singing ancient hymns in shifting key
while all the ice of the invisible world
is gathering here in my heart
in my clamoring heart.

Yet I am myself, I think
myself – blushing and dreaming
of vacant cathedrals.
I am myself.

The Lord, our God, made earth and sky
as we lay sleeping in ditches,
drunk and half-witted. I did drink,
aye, and dance, yes
but I did not sell myself.
I am penniless, not brainless.
Not yet.

The Crucible

Our local community theater group will soon be putting on a production of Arthur Miller’s - The Crucible. You are all invited to come see it.

A Day Full of Wonder

Yesterday was an ordinary day, full of wonder and of weird. Perfectly ordinary in every way.

I saw that the great steel rings encircling me were banded with iridescent rainbows. I asked the angel carrying these rings through the air, “How came this to be? What causes this?”  “The Trees. They are responsible,” he told me, but I knew that he meant The Chemists.

I considered my age, but did not act it.

I saw rivers of rust racing upward from the middle of the floor. They were there on the other side as well.

I looked for someone who was not there.

I watched this not too solid, blue flesh be washed away, renewed. This happened more than once, and I rejoiced each time.

I ate cheese.

I said, “I am not so old.” But no one heard me. And I didn’t believe me.

I sent undeliverable messages into the void. They returned to me the same.

I deciphered a coded map to an unwanted treasure. I watched as the X was marked and the hole was dug. It was promptly refilled.

I instructed some in the ways and means of revolution. All they needed was power and a way to control it – and isn’t that true of all revolutions?

I went in search of lost and forgotten scrolls. I went into neglected corners and haunted ruins I found a few of the scrolls, but only a few.

I hid myself from the hovering, red eye – the eye that seeks to crush and to kill. I slunk into the recesses and hid behind the columns until it passed.

I hijacked a battery and pushed buttons for brass.

I drew the summoning digit with chalk and waited for them that look within.

I reminded myself to not be anxious, but did not heed the reminder. My lip was shredded. Still, for a moment I felt a shower of sparks down my neck and spine, and I was not afraid. I held the light.

Yesterday was an ordinary day, full of wonder and of weird. Perfectly ordinary in every way.

Whose Head Is This and Whose Title?

15 Then the Evangelicals went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. 16 So they sent their disciples to him, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. 17 Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the government, or not?” 18 But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? 19 Show me one of your coins..” And they brought him one. 20 Then he said to them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” 21 They answered, “President Trump..” Then he said to them, “Give to God the things that belong to God, and pay your taxes, but don’t give this clown anything; he’s a liar and a cheat..” 22 When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.

The Mother of My Children and Those Children

Photo taken at the MN Zoo in a rare moment when all three were smiling at the same time.